


Laundry Day

by APHTrashbin (verfens)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfens/pseuds/APHTrashbin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland is the third year university student, a transfer to NYU who’s dealing with more problems than he wants to acknowledge.  Alfred Jones is the RA who got involved more because he thought the guy was cute, and quickly comes to understand that Arthur has more problems than a smile and some chocolate can fix.  Arthur has OCPD, college/university AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it.

He had spent 30 minutes on this quest, only to arrive at this conclusion, this horrific crime that now irritated him on such a deeply personal level, since he had no idea on how this person had even managed such a feat under the noses of those in the dorms who typically did their laundry on Sunday morning.

"All of the laundry machines are in use." He muttered to himself beneath his breath. His eye twitched a bit. "All 8 washers are _in use_."

And it looked as though one person, a _single_ evil lord of the washing machine, had decided to use them _all_.

Arthur Kirkland was pissed, since schedules were of the utmost importance to him. The exchange student was outraged, simply because it was of the same caliber of insult as taking someone's unofficially assigned seat in the middle of the semester. It drew deep from his innards and disgusted him to his core. What sort of selfish _prick_ would do that?

Normally, Arthur and about 5 other people washed on Sunday mornings. The soothing routine was especially important to Arthur, who would put his whites in at 8, and when the 30 minutes passed he'd add his colors to the wash and wait until they were done to dry both whites and colors as his sheets and linens went into the washer at 9. However, it was now 8:25 and _none_ of his clothes were in the dryer, let alone his second load of clothing, and this would invariably through his schedule out of whack for the whole _day_ , and everyone else's as well.

What a right _arse_.

Now, a small voice in the back of Arthur's head told him that while others might feel mild irritation at having their daily routine slightly inconvenienced (and certainly none would feel the crawling of pure _wrongness_ down their backs that Arthur did), however Arthur was never one to be discouraged from feeling just about ready to blow with rage at whatever idiot had done this or have an anxiety attack because of the lack of order in having this chaotic neutral fool do what had to be _weeks_ of laundry in 8 different machines while he suffered this slight.

"Man, is that really _all_ of them!?" An unfamiliar voice pierced his quickly derailing train of thought, and caught Arthur's attention. _American_ , his mind told him belatedly. Sounded like he was from the Midwest, with his lack of any specific accent from North or South, certainly none from the New York area. "NYU should totally be able to spare a few more bucks on us with how much we're paying them." The man muttered, breathtakingly handsome as they came, not wearing a shirt as he paraded around in pajama pants, holding a basket of laundry in them.

"8 machine's are normally _fine_." Arthur said after a moment, trying to quell his shaking hands as his body and mind shrieked against the lack of order, things were going to fall apart _he was going to fall apart._ "Some _prick…_ just is using all of them at the moment."

"Oh." The American said after a moment, scratching his head before he squatted next to him. "You 'kay dude? You look like you're going to be sick."

"I'm…" He gritted out. " _Fine_."

The unknown student nodded, sitting next to him quietly despite how he looked 'sick'. "Mm, well, I'm Alfred. From the accent I take it you're English?"

Arthur glared a bit, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth it to be horrible to this person who was obviously trying to distract him or help him feel better.

"…Yes." Arthur responded belatedly. "I'm, I'm Arthur. I'm an exchange student, from, from _Oxford_." The words were slow to his mouth, his mind feeling like his voice was moving like molasses despite the fast pace of his thoughts.

"Arthur, huh? Nice to meet you, then, I need to wash, dry and press my uniforms before tonight, but, ehheh, looks like someone's got a monopoly on the washing machines."

When Arthur didn't response, Alfred didn't seem discouraged. "I'm an ROTC person, they require me to dress in uniform a lot…it's kinda annoying but I make the best of it, yanno?"

"…ROTC?" Arthur eventually asked, also trying to distract himself from his anxious thoughts and rebelling stomach. "That's…that means you're getting a scholarship from the US military, doesn't it?"

Alfred agreed quietly, interested in Arthur's quiet, uncertain voice as well. "I'm here for the Marines." He gestured to the machines in front of them as they counted down to 1 minute remaining.

"When the clothes finish, you should take out their stuff and put it on the countertop in a sopping wet heap." He grinned playfully. "Their punishment for being an ass, you know?"

"My-my routine is still…" Arthur fumbled, embarrassed by saying the panicked words aloud but also a tad too distressed to honestly care as Alfred got this knowing look in his eyes.

"What's the routine?" Alfred asked, voice calm still, standing up and reaching a hand down to Arthur, the exchange student getting pulled up with a strong, mildly calloused hand.

"Whites, than colors, than Linens. 8, then 8:30, then 9." Arthur recited from memory. "Then folding for 15 minutes, and cleaning. Taking out the trash at 9:50 right before the first load of dry clothes is done."

Alfred put his hand up. "Mmm, well, just use these two machines to do your whites and colors!" He gestured, trying to resolve the issue for Arthur, sunny and bright and far, far nicer than Arthur deserved- a voice in the back of his mind screamed he was being incredibly irrational even as he struggled with his voice, the solution proposed not working either.

"But!" Arthur spluttered. "That's _Kiku's_ machine, he washes his clothes at 8:45!" His fingers were splayed on his pants, and he was unsure of how to proceed as his mind ran around in dizzying circles with dizzying speed.

"Kiku?" Alfred's voice lit up with familiarity as his lips played with a smile. "He's on a trip with his friends. Gone until tonight. I know because I texted him last night about studying for our polysci class."

"With Kanner at 10AM on Mondays?" Arthur eventually asked for clarification, looking to Alfred for confirmation. He was also in that class with Kiku, and he was unsure if Kiku took more than one political science class.

"Yep! That's the one." Alfred agreed. "Now." He scooped out the laundry from the machines, and put them on the countertop adjacent to the machines. "It's 8:30, meaning you can catch up if you hurry. Someone who's not here won't mind not having a machine to use!"

"There are way too many negatives in that statement." Arthur muttered, rather off topic as he mindlessly went into the motions of putting in the colors in the right machine, and the whites in Kiku's usual machine.

Alfred beamed at him, shrugging nonchalantly as he moved his laundry bag of dirty uniforms onto his back by heaving it over his shoulder. "Eh. I'm gonna go clear out another machine."

"On which floor?" Arthur hesitantly prodded, unsure if he would be intruding, and feeling ever so slightly awkward for having taken up _both_ of the washer machines in this room.

"…Oh, just the closest one, the one on third of this part of the building." Alfred set down his stuff for a moment, and pointed upwards with a rather carefree motion.

"…. Y-you mentioned being in Kanner's class." Arthur mumbled, unsure of himself as he blinked rapidly, avoiding Alfred's curious gaze out of embarrassment. "I'm also in it…if you would like to study with me at 4:30 tonight in the study room on second…"

Alfred grinned after a moment of surprise. "Alright." The taller student agreed readily. "I'll be there at 4:30."

XXXXX

Fingers tapped anxiously in the quiet of the study room. 4:30 was almost there. Where was the other student? Where was he? Did he decide not to come? Did he think Arthur was boring, did he decide not to bother with him? Did he think he was crazy for needing order?

It was 4:29 now and a pit was growing in Arthur's stomach, and it was hard to tell if it was anxiety or nausea- was it that sandwich he'd eaten at lunch or was it that he had been looking forward to Alfred-.

 _No_. Arthur didn't need _him_. Green eyes stared down, hateful and angry and anxious and upset and the order was broken and he couldn't do anything about it. BUT. He didn't need anyone, he didn't! He hated people who would just leave him alone, people who didn't keep their commitments! Hated people who broke the order! Hated hated hated hated hated-

"Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting!" A voice broke through his thoughts, breaking the harmful chain of thoughts and he felt hands on his own, pulling at them-why were they close to his head he didn't understand he didn't understand. It was 4:31 and he was late and everything was wrong couldn't he see that couldn't he see that it wasn't _right_?

"R- A...Arth- Arthur!" The voice broke through his sudden mental fog, whoever it belonged to repeatedly calling his name, and Arthur found Alfred's face in front of his and one foreign hand on his temple and the other holding his hands against his chest by the wrists.

"Do you have medication, Arthur?" The voice was logical, calm, even as Arthur shook and things felt wrong wrong wrong he was out of control everything was awry and Arthur was to blame he was to blame and he was going to get in trouble for it he was he was in trouble because he wasn't in order. He struggled and fought and resisted the person's words.

At some point the person pulled Arthur into his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him, small circles being pressed into his back as Arthur was enveloped.

"Arthur, _please_ , calm down." The voice was a bit shaken, but still in control. "No one's going to hurt you- you're not in trouble, you're not in trouble. _Breathe_ , breathe…"

Arthur tried to do as it said, and then it started counting for him. He started to tap his hand on the man's shoulder, and was better able to focus on breathing, and with each familiar motion, he started to feel a bit less distressed. This he could control. He _was_ in control.

And then his support picked him up, before sitting him back down in the chair.

"You okay, Arthur?" The voice asked, with a small, slightly worried smile on his face as he looked over Arthur. After a belated glance examining the man, Arthur realized that it was Alfred.

"Ah…" Arthur finally put two and two, and realized Alfred had arrived to his meltdown. "You were late." Arthur muttered, angry that this person had thrown him off his schedule like this.

"Your clock is a minute faster than mine." Alfred held his up to show, and Arthur checked his watch to see, that yes, his watch was faster than Alfred's. He didn't know what to do about that, and he'd wasted so much time already, he needed to study lest his routine got thrown off the next morning as well!

Alfred put his hand on top of his and Arthur was surprised.

"Let's get to work." Alfred said, again, calm and steady, though there was something under the surface. Arthur gathered his things, and opened his textbook while Alfred opened up his notes.

He let Alfred's soothing explanations of the political sphere wash over him, addressing the topics that Kanner was going to include on the test with ease. Arthur wrote down the words automatically, slipping into the easy repetition, even as the other student gave Arthur a look of subtle worry.

XXXXX

Arthur and Alfred finished quickly, and the other student asked what room Arthur lived in, helping him gather up study materials and carry his things. Arthur led him quietly, his hands still shaking from earlier, making him secretly glad that the ROTC student was carrying his things for him.

He made it to his room, and fumbled with the key for a moment, before holding it up to the door and waiting to hear the beeping noise that signaled he was able to open it. No sooner than he had though, then his fucking roommate shouted at him to close the door, and a shoe was tossed at him.

Alfred was bright red as Arthur slammed the door on Francis Bonnefoy and whatever man he had been about to have sex with and had gotten caught in the moment when Arthur had opened the door, tired and ready to recharge a bit from his hectic day.

And that was exactly when Arthur had had enough. One tear, then two tears, then he dropped his card to the floor, his hands going slack and shaking, and then he felt his breath hitch and he felt entirely undignified as he broke down in front of a person he barely knew for the 3rd time that day.

Alfred didn't seem to mind, worry sprouting on his face even as Arthur didn't notice it, caught up in the broken feeling of having a very, very bad day.

"C'mon, I live in a single." Alfred said quietly as he subtly guarded Arthur from being viewed by anyone who might walk by. "A big one, thankfully. I'm, uhm, an RA, I…don't know if you've seen me around, though. I'm a replacement and on a different floor than you, like in another wing…"

Arthur was too distraught by it all to do anything except nod and wipe his face off as best he could. Embarrassment and shame coursed through him, even as Alfred readjusted his grip on Arthur's things to wrap an arm around him and walk him to another part of the building, telling on looking students that he'd just had a bit too much to drink- it was no shocker to kids that of-age RAs could drink, so they let it slide. One of them wished that she could drink with the hot new RA, and Alfred snorted once the hall door had closed behind him.

"Freshmen are so into them, 'cause they think we'll bring them benefits! Like yeah, I'm nice, but I'm also gay, and 99% of the girls near my floor of who've seen me work the desk are flirting with me already…fuck it, to be honest." Alfred muttered and rolled his eyes as he rubbed Arthur's shoulder. "I won't try anything, honest, it's more just…you look like you need a moment somewhere where people aren't gonna poke their noses into your business."

Arthur wasn't much listening, but the voice was nice, and the hand guiding him was gentle. It was ample distraction from the all-consuming illness in his stomach, and the wrongness coming out of dealing with his prat of a roommate's refusal to adhere to his rules and regulations. Things would be perfect, bad things wouldn't happen if Francis would just _listen_ to him! Why didn't people do as he said?

He heard a beeping, and then the clicking of lights as the hand guided him to a couch, sitting him down there and handing him a blanket and his things. "You can sleep here tonight." Alfred said quietly. "Do whatever it is you need to finish…I'm gonna order dinner."

And then Alfred walked around to grab his computer, sitting down and yawning at it. Arthur felt disoriented, and lay down quietly, dazed and nauseous and for the first time in his life, he really wondered what was _wrong_ with him as he tapped the fabric of the couch he laid on in desperation to make things right again, to put things into order again, because he was bad and things would be bad if he didn't.

The RA smiled at him a bit from his desk chair, trying to be gentle as he rolled closer to him. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, and Arthur had no answer for him, since he didn't know anymore. This feeling of wrongness was too strong to go against, and most of this was new. But he couldn't say anything about it, no. It wouldn't be right to burden this young man.

Yet Arthur didn't notice the look of worry growing on the younger man's face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you ever seen a therapist around here, Arthur?" Alfred asked one night, a few nights after the original meltdown of his normal behavior. Arthur had, however, welcomed the new person into his life since Alfred seemed to understand things going on with him in a way that other people hadn't before. His own roommate often threw Arthur out of balance easily these days, and it was exactly what Arthur didn't need.

Fights between Francis and Arthur would generally boil down to them screaming that they never listened to each other, and Arthur always wound up slighted.

A deeper voice from within told him that he was upset since he and Francis had been such good friends before they had roomed together, but he ignored that. It was _Francis'_ fault, after all. The idiot would do too many spontaneous things. Having sex in their shared room unannounced with a person from a bar was just one of those things that Arthur hated about living with the prick, and honestly, Francis told Arthur after that he was tired of rooming with him. Since Francis had indeed been the one originally assigned to the room, he was the one who got to keep it. Unfortunately, at the moment there weren't any openings in the other halls, and no dorm open for Arthur.

Alfred had quietly allowed Arthur to stay in his room, claiming the pullout couch could be his temporary bed, at least until something opened up or he found an apartment or something.

The change was still jarring of course, but honestly living with an ROTC student, who was also an RA was incredibly soothing. Alfred himself had a strict schedule that he had to follow for his academic purposes, and it did wonders for Arthur's own ruffled feathers after the move out of his old room.

The question threw Arthur off, though.

"What? Why would I need to?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. It wouldn't be the first time some idiot accused him of needing a therapist- and he didn't! Things would be so much easier if people just understood he was devoted to his work and order, and stopped accusing him of silly things. There was nothing wrong with having a strong work ethic!

"I was just asking." Alfred shrugged. "It's actually not about you- my bro needs to find one in the area, but I unno any good names." The answer was surprisingly smooth, and again, Arthur was thrown off.

"Your brother?" Arthur asked, confused, and Alfred nodded.

"Yeah. My twin bro's transferring back to NYU this semester from a study abroad. He was in Canada with Mom for a while, but his anxiety acted up around her like nothin' else. Called me up the other night absolutely worn thin from her antics."

"Your parents are separated?" Arthur asked delicately, his mind appeased by the logical reasoning of Alfred's question.

Alfred's grin was slow but present, rubbing his neck after a moment. "They are, yeah. Dad filed for divorce _years_ ago, when he found out how mom was treatin' Matt and I at home. He worked a lot away from home, but Mom was always kinda…" The student rubbed his neck. "Out of control. Anyway, long story short Matt and I moved to NY when we started high school, since Dad had been hired for a job out here that would allow him to watch us. Mom moved to Canada to be with her folks. Matt wanted to at least give her another chance last year though, but…it didn't work out."

Arthur nodded quietly, processing that information. "Mmm, my own mother was a bit lacking herself." He admitted quietly. "She wasn't really cut out to be a parent, and my father wasn't much better."

Alfred hummed after a moment of contemplating that, and then grinned. "Do you want to go out to a movie next weekend? That's around the time my bro's coming back, and it'd be nice to hang out with both of you."

It was delightfully refreshing on Arthur's part to not be pitied because his mum had been distant. It was similarly intriguing that Alfred was planning it so far in advance, which made his insides purr a bit since that would give him the time he needed to adjust his schedule to accommodate it. "What movies are out? I'm afraid I don't go that often, and I don't frequently watch TV now that Penny Dreadful is off season."

"Man! I love that show!" Alfred said immediately, grinning brightly once more. "Ethan Chandler makes such good eye candy, and his short lived time with Dorian was rather…interesting." But the gleam in his eyes suggested it had definitely been an erotic sort of intrigue.

"The Picture of Dorian Grey originally had themes of homosexuality to it." Arthur allowed a smile. "With Basil in love with Dorian, however, Basil is not on the show."

Alfred nodded, humming as he thought back. "I heard in an interview when I first got into it that they would tie in War of the Worlds as well, and I'm super interested in how on earth that'll work out with the whole Supernatural Gothic thing they have going on now."

Arthur nodded, taking that in for thought. "I do wonder." He murmured. "Mr. Chandler was last seen going to America, and is that not where the story takes place?" He asked, faltering a bit at the end and feeling incredibly stupid for asking, his stomach dropping suddenly. He gripped his hands so that they would not shake. Surely, he should know these things, correct? Now why did he have to ask the question?

Thankfully Alfred nodded eagerly. "Yeah! War of the Worlds takes place over on this side of the pond, so its possible it could be introduced this season, but still, we finished seeing basically the epitome of supernatural, how can they bring in sci-fi now?"

Arthur hummed, before tilting his head. "Shelley's work is already key to the storyline, and I would dare say that Frankenstein is the original science fiction horror." He said, pleased to show off his knowledge to another fan. It wasn't often that his intellect in the realm of gothic literature was useful to conversation.

A phone's ringtone interrupted them, and Arthur jolted, disliking the sound. He kept his ringer off so that he wouldn't have his schedule interrupted, but Alfred was otherwise orderly so that it didn't bother him too much that the noise had broken his conversation.

The other man sighed as he looked down at his phone, and stood up. "I'll go outside to answer this, but I wanna talk with you about it when I get back!" Alfred smiled brightly, before ducking out.

Preening contentedly in silence, Arthur returned to his work, secretly pleased that Alfred had taken so well to his interests. Sad as it was to admit to himself, Arthur often found himself lacking in friends. It wasn't like he didn't want them; in fact, he desperately did want them. However, he never managed to 'click' with people, and Francis was just the most recent of a long string of friendships that had been ruined.

Something cold fell hard in his stomach at the thought, and he paused on that note. If so many of the people he had once been friends with had all broken it off with him citing similar reasons- too critical, too judgmental, too stubborn, too mean- was it _really_ their issues that had broken the bond?

The unspoken question if it had been something Arthur had done lay before him like an unwanted stranger, knocking on his door with the single goal of getting inside.

" _Listen_ , no, I'm done talking. I'm not giving you my or Matt's address." Alfred's voice was strained as he entered the room, rubbing his temples and knocking Arthur out of that potentially dangerous thought. "Look, Matt was kind to even give you that chance, and its not on my shoulders that you went and ruined it for yourself, mom- oh, go to hell." And with that, he closed the door in a huff, clicking the button to hang up on his iPhone quietly.

Arthur stared blankly, and Alfred shrugged, looking away. He looked almost guilty. "Mom was… and _is_ , a real piece of work." He mumbled after a moment. And then he went quiet, sitting down in his desk chair again.

Their previous conversation forgotten, Arthur got the sense that he wasn't the only one struggling with unwanted thoughts and broken bonds.

XXXXX

Arthur was, as always, able to return to business as usual after a few days muddling through anxiety as he purposefully changed his schedule to meet the new order of things. Alfred's timeliness, though it did help, also threw a wrench in his usual eating habits.

Sad as it was to say, Arthur normally went to dinner with Francis at the dining hall, at around 6:30 each night. But since the fight and the split, Arthur had been avoiding the place like the plague.

"Are you dropping weight?" Alfred asked when he walked in the room as Arthur was changing, causing the other man to shout in embarrassment and wrap himself in his fleece robe.

"No! It wasn't my intention." Arthur rolled his eyes.

Alfred did a quick once over, a visible up and down before he raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and Arthur blew out hot air before he explained. "I've been skipping meals. Not to diet, but rather because I can't go back to the dining hall. I cannot reframe my schedule to go when I cannot account for when Francis will be there." Arthur said stiffly, feeling a bit upset as he realized he had spoken his name aloud for the first time in a few days.

"Oh, your jackass roomie, right?" Alfred grinned a bit, before he sat down with him. "The one who was doin' the do the other night and told you not to come back?"

Arthur went mute for a moment, his throat feeling tight, but nodded despite it. Alfred wasn't wrong after all, just a little unknowledgeable about certain things that had happened.

"Mmm, well, if you're avoiding the jackass how about you and I go together to a different dining hall? Have you ever been to the other one across campus?" Alfred asked, trying to find a solution.

"I-It's always a bit too far away…I never felt inclined." Arthur murmured, finding his voice as the subject switched away from Francis, and Alfred looked thoughtful for a moment, before hitting his fist into the palm of his other hand excitedly.

"Well, we could take the bus to get closer to that side of campus!" Alfred suggested. "Then it wouldn't take too long, and your Ex roomie is _thoroughly_ avoided."

Green eyes stared hard at this man, and he sighed a bit, nodding in agreement. "T-That sounds amicable." He agreed after a moment, and Alfred grinned brighter, bouncy. Goodness, when did the room get so warm? It might have been the flush on Arthur's own face, but he refused to admit that. "I'd have to figure out when, of course, but I do need to eat." Arthur agreed, feeling the bones of his ribs displeasure. "I rather dislike looking like a skeleton."

Often when he was in high school he got odd questions about his weight and his habits and his obtuseness when it came to not letting other people do things for him. He wasn't anorexic, of that he was certain. But for all the pressing and prodding of his elders trying to assist with a problem that hadn't been there, there was now only a subtle dislike of being told to go to the doctor.

No, his faults were not in his self-image, that he was sure.

But perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to go to the doctor about these…occurrences though. He found himself upset to the point of meltdown more frequently these days, and it was new for him to need tap things.

Alfred seemed to be watching him curiously, before walking over to his desk, and Alfred handed him some food from his drawer. "Well, you're hungry and you need a bit to sort out when you want to grab a bite, eat this." He said brightly, making Arthur feel infinitely more secure in himself.

The RA sat down at his desk, yawning as he got on his computer to do his online math homework. Arthur contended himself with Alfred's food, snacking on it easily as he saw it was, indeed, time to do his homework.

This was rather nice, honestly.

XXXXX

Matthew's arrival was something that had been thoroughly planned and explained to Arthur by Alfred, but that didn't really set all of his worries to the side. After all, it was going to disturb the careful balance he had only so recently put back into place. The staircase up to his room had left Arthur a little lightheaded, but it wasn't anything a short nap wouldn't fix.

He felt a bit nauseous as he saw that Alfred wasn't home at his usual time to let him into the dorm, fumbling with his temp key to allow himself in. But again, Arthur had known this was coming some time in advance, and so he tried to soothe his ruffled feathers. Matthew was Alfred's brother, and Arthur was just the sad student that shacked up with an RA because there were no rooms available at the moment, at a point that was this late in the semester.

Arthur felt an unfortunate pit of anxiety growing inside him as he tried feebly to bat away the troublesome thoughts, his head aching and his stomach eating away at him. His forehead was pressed against the door, and he couldn't pull the damn key out of his bag, and he felt disoriented- was this the room? Perhaps that was why the occupant hadn't let him in. Maybe it was Matthew's room- Matthew wouldn't like Arthur, the sad exchange student who was eating up his brother's time with his scheduling that no one else seemed to like.

His cell phone rang, and he recognized the caller as Alfred's number. However, he watched the number ring, ring, ring, until his phone screen went dark once again. Arthur's shaking hands had stilled enough to let him grab hold of the key, and he pulled his head away from the door, vision swimming.

He was still avoiding the dining hall, that wasn't helping now as he felt lightheaded and laughed a bit, rubbing his eyes to try and see better, stepping to the door and going to let himself in, but dropped the key.

Arthur stared at the empty space in his hand where it had been, and laughed again. Even a damn key hated him and wished ill against him. The phone rang again, and Arthur threw it into his bag in a bit of a haze. He missed, and didn't know why, seeing double at the moment.

He heard a worried voice behind him- though the words sounded as though they were from a far off room, and saw blonde hair reach down to his bag, and picked up the key and the phone.

The door opened, and the person flicked on the lights, helping Arthur to the bed. He held his head for a moment, staring up at the face in confusion, uncertain why _he_ was bothering to help.

"…Rest, Arthur. We'll talk later." It said, and Arthur felt too weak to really argue with it even as nervousness balled up inside him and made him lose his every defense even as it made them work in overdrive. He lay down, wondering who the intruder was but also knowing who it was.

A very apologetic looking Francis Bonnefoy sat across from him, his face swirling in Arthur's vision.

He closed his eyes, and let himself sink deep into the blankets, knowing when he woke up things would make more sense.

XXXXX

"He was passing out?" Alfred's voice jarred Arthur from his impromptu nap, and he opened his eyes in confusion.

"Yes, he was. Hardly looks to be in great shape." Francis' voice made him close them, not really eager for that confrontation either.

"Well, he mentioned that he wasn't eating as much as he should be." Alfred tentatively revealed, and Francis shifted on the bed, next to Arthur. Why was he so close?

"Arthur's always been difficult- I should know. But he has worsened in the past few months with the increased stress of school." Francis murmured, and Arthur felt shame course through him. These were good people- they shouldn't worry about someone like him, who was bad and couldn't even stick to a basic schedule.

"Mmm." Alfred hummed, before he sighed. "I can suggest he goes to a therapist, honestly, but…I don't wanna be pushy. It looks like anxiety and maybe OCD or something, but not even that."

"I always suspected something of that sort, but Arthur doesn't take kindly to those sorts of ideas- that something is wrong with _him_. He's very quick to deflect his anger onto those around him." Francis agreed, chuckling lightly. "In all honestly, I was stressed out and dealing with Arthur's worsening anal retentiveness has driven me past my patience. But I need to apologize, because despite that, he is one of my best friends."

Francis…wanted to apologize?

More than that, Alfred and him both thought something was _wrong_ with Arthur. Something like anxiety or OCD. Maybe, but…He didn't know how to feel about it.

"It looks like he's out though." Alfred said after a moment. "We should let him rest. Matt's moving into his apartment, and I was gonna help him til' around 5- that's what I had told Arthur…"

"You're pandering to his crazed schedule? A nice young thing like yourself?" Francis scoffed, and Arthur felt his haunches rise in anger, fury boiling beneath the surface.

"It's not crazy, and honestly, if it makes him feel happy, I see no harm in it." Alfred admitted. The boys response sent Arthur for a loop, and the Brit wasn't quite sure any longer on how to feel about this. Did Alfred pity him? It didn't feel like it, since honestly he was coming from a place of relative understanding. "You kicked him out, and he's a cool enough guy- I like him."

Francis didn't say anything back, and Arthur felt somewhat vindicated at that.

Alfred's door opened, and Arthur assumed that the RA had left in a tizzy; going to help Matthew as he had promised Arthur he would in a timely manner. Absently, Arthur noticed that he shouldn't have come back at all, but it was likely that Francis had used his phone to call Alfred after he had passed out.

Francis sighed, and Arthur felt the man shift his weight off the bed, and sat on the desk chair, apparently waiting for Arthur to wake. He was just pretending to be asleep, so he had to face his fear eventually.

He waited a few more minutes, resting quietly and lethargically, before he murmured quietly to act out as though he was waking up, and he sat up.

"I see you've awakened, dear Arthur." Francis said after a moment, and Arthur looked over at him groggily. His vision had come back to him. "Your American friend left you a snack- quite attractive that one, isn't he your type?"

Arthur sent him a withering glare. "Alfred is a dear, and a good friend. Honestly, he is attractive, but I wouldn't take advantage of him."

The other man shrugged, looking around, seeming to be feeling awkward. Arthur relished in it.

"Why are you here?" Arthur eventually asked when it became apparent that Francis wasn't going to offer his explanation easily.

"I wanted to smooth things over." Francis admitted. "As much as you had driven me crazy, you are still my best friend, and you were worrying me immensely at the same time. Seeing you essentially ready to pass out reminded me of that, honestly. You _need_ to see someone, Arthur. You really do."

"I'm not anorexic!" Arthur retorted, rolling his eyes. "Francis, you know that." He muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I know it's not anorexia." Francis replied coolly, trying to ease the situation.

"Then _what_!?" Arthur shouted, feeling overly defensive, and wishing Alfred was here.

"I think it's OCD, my dear, but I think you really need to see a doctor to get a proper diagnosis. You are all in all, not well, my friend." Francis admitted, shrugging quietly. "You are doing things you've never done before. Yes, you've always been anal retentive but I've never known you to avoid dining halls altogether as Alfred told me over the phone. Alfred also told me that you've been getting physically sick when things aren't going right? Again, you've never _enjoyed_ having your schedule thrown off, but you managed to deal with it one way or another, but as far as I can see, you are no longer able to deal with it." Francis laid out his reasoning easily, and Arthur felt his defenses stripped away one by one with the sharp words.

And then Arthur sniffled, upset. Rubbing his eyes, he laughed. "I had thought I had ruined our friendship." The younger man admitted, and Francis rolled his eyes.

"Such melodrama! I swear, dear Arthur, you're attempting to steal my thunder." Francis joked. "After all, we survived the garish things we did when we were leaving preliminary school in one piece. I think we'll be just fine in the long run."

And then Arthur was pulled into a hug, which he accepted easily enough, despite groaning and acting as though it was begrudgingly welcomed. Francis gave the best hugs, and for all their squabbles they've had in their lives, he was always a good friend to Arthur.

"H-how would I go about getting a diagnosis?" Arthur asked after a moment. "Who would I see? What would the treatment even be?" He fiddled with his hands.

Francis shrugged. "Alfred said that his brother, Matthew, might have an idea on that, but he agreed to give us some space and told me he'd be back at 5."

Arthur nodded after a moment, sighing as he sat up and pulled away, realigning himself as best he could."

"If I'm honest, Alfred's more than a friend. He's breathtakingly attractive- Francis, he's a military man; he's got the damn body of a movie star! It's incredibly unfair. I think he wanted to hit on me and then got dragged into the long haul."

"He's hopelessly into you, but I agree in that Alfred had completely had no idea what he was getting into you." Francis murmured, stretching a bit.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes tiredly. "I hope he won't be a problem- he's kinda nice."

His old friend smiled. "He's not what you call a 'problem', you'd call someone like him… a _keeper_." Francis winked and Arthur went flush, slapping him upside the head and shouting about not drawing conclusions, as Arthur had only known the other for a short while, and Francis continued to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> depending on how i feel about ending this w/ 1 more chapter, i might end it with another 2.


End file.
